


I am a fish that dreams of flight

by tofus



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Drama, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pining, Secrets, Self-Discovery, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, chasing your dreams, rate m for the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:25:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofus/pseuds/tofus
Summary: If omega Katsuki Yuuri had to describe the feeling of falling from grace, it'll be a string of three words: blinding, flickering, gone.After bombing his performance in the Sochi Grand Prix, Yuuri decides it's time to retire from the rink. But a video of him skating Victor Nikiforov’s Stay Close to Me arrangement is uploaded, and said famous ice-skater-turned-coach shows up at Yuuri's doorstep, bent on taking him as a pupil.  With some prodding, Yuuri's determination is rekindled and he accepts. The only problem is, Victor has an unspoken rule: he doesn’t groom omegas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone ^^  
> This is my attempt on dipping one toe into the YOI fandom. I always thought Yuuri's thoughts of depression were skipped over during his character introduction, and so wanted to explore that mindset just a bit. There's a flavor of a/b/o dynamics sprinkled in as well, although I don't want to use that as a crutch. Yuuri and co., they are people after all, even with the animalistic tendencies of such an AU ^^
> 
> With that, I hope you can get some entertainment from this. Enjoy!

The last flickers of the evening horizon disappear into a meld of oranges and browns, pierced only by the gentle dance of tumbling snow. Even so, such a tranquil sight is forgotten, giving way to the loud cheers within the stadium. Inside the awards ceremony is taking place. Katsuki Yuuri hides in a dark corner flanked by shadows, heart flying through many emotions at once.

He presses his legs closer to his chest, eyes shut, not breathing.

There. There it goes. He blew it, again. Just when Yuuri thought he’d shaken off the nerves and grief, images of Vicchan come spiraling with increasing vividness throughout his routine. Five years of neglect. They say it walked right into ongoing traffic. He’s been a terrible owner.

Palms roll into fists, shaking. Knuckles glowing white.

Such guilt, and a sleepless haze fueled by bad eating habits, shaped Yuuri’s performance into the formless, uninspired mess it became. Yuuri even flubbed the triple axel, one of his favorites. The corners of his eyes still burn, and he rubs at them roughly with the back of a sleeve.

“Yuuri, where are you going?” prods Celestino. His coach of many years.

"Toilet."

The dim hallway beckons him, and he half dashes into the male restroom. His feet tremble like jelly and so do his hands. Locks his fingers together to stop the shaking. Once inside, Yuuri heads straight for an unoccupied stall, rushing past the complimentary mirrors. He's afraid to catch his own reflection; there's a voice that tells him he won't like what he sees.

Before he knows it, his fingers are dialing a number.

"Hello? Mom were you sleeping?" The hum of the other line. Yuuri breathes out, shoulders hunching while sitting on the toilet seat.

"Sorry. Oh, were you watching T.V.?  Huh? A public viewing? Please! I'm so embarrassed!" He forces himself to laugh. Tries his best to sound lively, unaffected. Then: "I'm sorry. I messed up." The beep of an ending call. Yuuri's face scrunches up like a prune and the dam breaks. Years of frustration pour out as a few salty tears. He chokes. The sound of muted sobbing fills the surrounding space. _This is really it._ Yuuri buries his face in his hands. _I'm done for._

And then a shrill bang of the door.

There are voices, two of them. Yuuri instantly sucks in his breath, sucks in the disappointment and self-admonishment out of fear. There's a thin crack separating the stall door from the wall, and he unconsciously slinks closer.

"You promised that if I won the Junior Division you'd look at me properly. Well here's the fucking gold!"

Shoulder length platinum blond hair paired with icy blue eyes. If Yuuri's eyes aren't playing tricks on him, he'd bet it's Yuri Plisetsky, the junior Grand Prix final gold medalist. Well, that and the clearly golden medal hanging on said youth's neck.

"Oh, did I say that? I am sure you know how forgetful I am."

"Well then fucking remember already!"

The other speaker is out of view, but for some reason Yuuri finds himself leaning in. That stranger's voice is smooth, like cashmere trimmings. Even without being seen, his presence is strong, captivating.

"My, with that voice Yuri you won't need a mic for press conferences. How clever. You have sure thought of everything haven't you?"

"Cut the crap. Take me as your pupil."

They're moving now, edging closer and closer to Yuuri's stall until earthly orbs catch the outline of the other speaker. _Oh._ The smartphone nearly drops from his hands.

"You know I don't coach omegas --"

"I'm an ALPHA damn it!"

"--or unpresented children like yourself."

"Well you came today, didn't you Victor? Why else would you be here?"

That's right. How could Yuuri not have noticed? The stranger is none other than Victor Nikiforov. Five times gold medalist of the Grand Prix finals. He's a legend among the FS community, voted most eligible bachelor in all media outlets. The epitome of alpha superiority.

“Hm, I wonder.” A finger placed thoughtfully on his chin.

“Bullshit!”

Growls of the young tiger and chuckles from the other. By the looks of it, the pair is finally stalking towards the exit when Victor’s head suddenly turns. Crisp blue, endless like the ocean, lands on the stall Yuuri is hiding in. In that moment, in that hairbreadth of a second, it almost feels as if Victor’s looking at him. Breath hitches. Yuuri feels like he’s floating now, up into the atmosphere. Like any higher and he’d be picking at the stars. And then the gaze is gone. Fleeting.

“Where are you going? Hey! Wait up!”

Now he is back on earth.

There’s a  warmth on his cheeks, a healthy flush wrapping around his ears and neck like a scarf. Heartrate 200 beats per minute. A warm hand clutches at his chest.

 _What, what was_ that? What had Victor said?

His mind recalls, no matter how blurry, the piercing blue stare, the pursing of those lips to form a single phrase.

_“Let’s not be a bother now.”_

Had he been figured out? Yuuri slowly staggers out of the bathroom stall once the last remnants of noise dissipate. Cheeks still freckled with specks of pink. In his confused haze, he manages to find Celestino, and collapses on a bench.

“Ah, Yuuri. It’s time to go.”

“Okay.” With that, the last-ranked skater of the event crawls out of the cold hard bench in a quiet corner, crawls into the hallway leading to the exit. Melds into the crowd before reaching his taxi. He’s always been that way. Unassuming. Invisible.

Nothing like the graceful, fierce alphas dominating the ice.

At a young age, even before he’d ever picked up skates, Yuuri always admired the powerful grace of alphas. How, with just one step, the whole atmosphere within a room would change. He wishes to have that same effect on people. That piercing aura that screams ‘look only at me!’

A sigh escapes from parted lips.

Instead, there’s a round, oval face, framed by dark bland hair. Almond shaped eyes hidden by thick frames. Eyes the color of dirt. It would make sense if he were a beta, what with his average, if not lean, build. But Yuuri is undoubtedly an omega. He was there when he presented at the age of 18. Kind of a late bloomer.

Yuuri scoffs, throwing his head back into the seat of the car. None of that demure omegan charm, too.

The first heat had lasted a week, and left him thinner afterwards. Yuuri’s ballet coach at the time, Minako-sensei, even joked that he sweated all the fat off. Everyone seemed astounded that he wasn’t a beta. But after the initial surprise, his friends and family treated it as no big deal. Omega or not, Katsuki Yuuri is still Kastuki Yuuri. Even with suppressants and heats.

He rubs his face with cold clammy palms. Breath comes out as little white clouds on the glass.

It’s no secret that Yuuri is grateful to all his mentors and supporters of his ice-skating career, but at this moment, at this precipice of his life, he can’t help but feel as if he’s disappointing them. What ‘top ranked skater of Japan?’ What ‘bright future?’ All these years of his craft, and he hasn’t been able to procure anything of worth to speak of. In fact the one and only time he qualified for the Grand Prix, he topped at sixth place. Sixth place. That’s just a courtesy title for _last_.

Not to mention, and Yuuri would never speak of this aloud, he’s a gentle soul like that, but the main reason he started skating was to one day stand on the same stage as his idol, the world renowned Alpha FS Victor Nikiforov. That never happened. In this respect, he’s already failed. Victor retired from the ice at the age of twenty-seven 1 year ago, and became a coach instead.

Brown eyes peer through the clouded window, trying their best to emblazon this city to memory.

Well. As much as Yuuri wants to continue skating, today’s results really hit hard. Not to mention, he is already twenty-three. A figure skater’s time on the rink is not long. The body and supple joints are not easy to maintain. If Yuuri pushes for it, working hard on his training like every day was his last, while at the same time get blessed by Lady Luck, he’d have two, three more years at most. At its worst, he’d have to start entertaining thoughts of retirement now.

_How long can my body last?_

The taxi finally slows to a stop. Yuuri takes one last glance at the frosty night sky, before rolling his luggage into the airport.

* * *

 

He tries his best to catch the coattails of slumber on the nineteen hour flight back to Detroit. But try as he might, Yuuri couldn’t squeeze in a wink.

Months roll by. Soon it is time for the Nationals. Perhaps due to his (unfixed) eating habits spurred by a lack of self-confidence, Yuuri self-destructs during the preliminary rounds. He even loses to an extremely young, baby-faced skater.

At this point, the crushing reality of his ice-skating career is raining down hard on him. Unable to ignore it any longer, Yuuri breaks free from his coach. Returns to his hometown of Hasetsu.

His story on the rink probably should have ended right here but.

“Um, I wanted you to see this so I’ve been practicing since the competitions ended.” Yuuri glances over at his childhood rinkmate Yuuko, large brown eyes cast with a hint of shyness. The ice is cold but the chill brings nostalgia to his soul.

“Please watch.”

The swerve of skates. Kiss of blades skimming ice. He closes his eyes, lashes splaying out like a fan. Yuuri thinks back to the time when they were younger. When the cheerful beta girl had dragged his ass on to the rink, a grumpy Nishigori in tow. The corners of his lips etch upwards. Her eyes had sparkled when Yuuri debuted in the Juniors’ event. He wishes he could see it again, and even once thought he’d come clean with his emotions after finally placing. And then five years passed in a blink of an eye. The feelings he had cooled along with the invitation to Yuuko’s wedding.

 _Ah._ Time sure doesn’t stop for anyone, does it? Chocolate eyes slowly slide open. And:

“That position,” breathes Yuuko.

If she didn’t know any better, Yuuko Nishigori would have thought Yuuri transformed. This is the starting position of Victor’s Nikiforov’s last arrangement, Stay Close to Me. The routine that brought the gifted alpha skater his fifth consecutive Grand Prix gold.

“It’s a perfect copy.” She brings her hands to her mouth.

Time seems to slow around him. Yuuri can feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Like liquid fire. His heart pounds to the rhythm of his soul. Body light, like air.

First, a Quadruple Lutz. Followed by a Quadruple Flip. Yuuri dances on the ice like some sort of ethereal ice fairy, and Yuuko finds that she can’t tear her gaze away. There’s a smoky look to his eyes, his gaze smoldering. As if the only ones that existed in this world were the two of them. _Yes, that’s right._ Flying sit spin. Quadruple salchow. Yuuri lands them all in surprising grace, a hint of a smile on plush pink lips. _This is a gift,_ Yuuri thinks. He surrenders to the lull of the ice. _My long-awaited thank you._

A clean Triple Lutz. Yuuri sways to the music in his heart. The blades of his skates catch the thick of the rink’s surface, spraying bits of ice into the air. From the lights on the ceiling, they glow like diamonds. A halo of brightness. He throws his hands in graceful swoops, as if reaching out to something unattainable. Breathes out. And then finally, a Quadruple Toe Loop followed by a Triple Toe Loop in quick, polished succession. He finishes it off with a combination spin, feeling the chill air of the rink seep into his bones.

He can hear it. The unsung, loud cheers around him.

“That was so freakin’ cool!”

He can barely keep his breaths in order, cheeks flushed.

“T-thank you.”

With this, Yuuri believes he can finally say farewell to his time as a figure skater. The unassuming omega takes in the excited cheers of his childhood friend. There’s a glow in her eyes and sprinkles of pink on round cheeks. It makes him feel proud for once. A flare of something akin to determination sets off deep in the chambers of his heart, but quickly quells it.

_With this, it’s goodbye._

Starting tomorrow, Katsuki Yuuri will no longer stand on the ice competitively. He’ll finish college, take a job, any job somewhere. He’s settled.

And then the video of him skating this routine gets uploaded.

“T-this is a bit troubling,” says Yuuri, gawking at the YouTube video that is undoubtedly of him.

“Ya think?” His previous ballet instructor, Minako-sensei, brings a hand to her forehead. Claws strands of brown back with a groan. “It’s only been two days and there’s already this many views. Well,” Yuuri’s eyes trail from his speaking ex-coach to the exit, “-- are you listening?” Large, brown eyes flash back to the woman sitting in front of him. They’re locked in a standstill, gazes glued to one another until Minako finally sighs. Brings a hand to rest on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Since you’ve chosen to retire you don’t have worry about this video much. Just focus on what you want to do now in the future.”

“The future…”

“That’s right!” says a round, plump woman with glasses. In her hands is a tray with a bowl of something delicious. “Your mother doesn’t mind if you help your sister take care of the hotspring. It belongs to the Katsuki family, anyway.”

“Mom…”

"Have you checked twitter, by the way? There's hundreds of tweets speculating you and Victor's relationship."

"What are they saying?" His face pales, eyes widening like saucers. A smirk slitters its way on Minako's lips.

"Hmm, not much. Just that you two are potential lovers--"

"WHAT?"

“Maa, is that another pork katsudon? Katsuki-san you shouldn’t spoil Yuuri so much. He’d get fat! Although, it’s probably too late for that already.”

“Ohoho, you care for Yuuri so much Minako-san.”

“He was my cute pupil after all.”

“I think I’ll go for a walk.” With that, the young man pulls himself up from the tatami mat and puts on his shoes. Without another glance he’s halfway out the front door.

“Yuuri, what about dinner?”

A pause. Yuuri turns his head around, glasses catching the glint of the dim ceiling lights. Eyes hidden by the glare. A small smile plasters over his lips.

“Ah, I’m not hungry. But I’ll eat it after I’m back.” And with that, he’s gone.

“What’s up with him?” Minako places her palms behind her, leaning back. “Already restless, huh.”

Outside the cool air teases dark locks. Yuuri is jogging his usual course by the beach. His nostrils pick up the salty stench of the sea. With each step, with each skip into the horizon, the young man feels the tight logic encasing him crumble. Like he’s chosen, but hasn't. Like he’s free, but contained.

It is all so confusing.

“I’ve made my choice,” he says, to no one in particular. Voice a bit scratchy like sandpaper.

_You’re a fool to give up._

His pace quickens, the _pita pat_ of sneakers hitting the boardwalk drowning out that voice in his heart. Up above the sleepy glow of the moon illuminates the road.  _Don’t you dare regret this._ A groan, and he pushes himself forward.

It’s not like the decision was easy to make. How many nights has he spent, writhing over his helplessness? His self-pity? No amount of convincing can get him to change his mind after but.

Half an hour passes before he’s back at the lodge. The warm fragrant air catches him off guard, and Yuuri blinks twice when a large poodle nearly runs him over.

“What, what is - Vicchan?” _No..._

“Yuuri you’re back!” His mother rushes to his side with a smile. All the while, he’s assaulted by a wet doggy tongue.

“A good-looking foreigner just booked a stay at the onsen - oh he’s gone.”

Yuuri rushes into the locker rooms of the bathhouse, pausing to scan the crowd for a certain face. In his rush, he almost forgets to take off his shoes. No matter. The heat and clouds of steam fog up his glasses, but he pays it no mind. His heart is a drum in his chest. 

_Just what are you looking for?_

With a _slam,_ the doors to the public indoor bath slide open. But Yuuri doesn’t find the object of his search. Feeling the confidence slowly drain from his body, like trying to catch water with folded hands, he mutters apologies and bows before shutting the door.

And then:

“That’s right, the open bath!”

Everything's a blur of colorful streaks, wisps of steam -- Yuuri leaps like a gazelle in the air. Before long he's standing at the door of the open bath, the jaws of a dragon --

there’s a man in there.

His eyes are a piercing shade of blue, like two oceans. A high nose, shimmering peppered hair. Chiseled features. Pale, clear skin. Yuuri's gaze trails lower and then he realizes he's staring.

“Yuuri!" The stranger, no, _Victor Nikiforov_ smiles sweetly at him. He feels the tips of his ears bloom. There's a strong, spicy scent mixed in with the earthy smells of the outdoor bath, and it makes Yuuri want to edge closer.

"I’ve come to be your coach! That video.” Waddles towards the young man. Never breaking eye-contact with Yuuri like a true alpha. It stirs a instinctual urge to avert his gaze. To submit.

Deep down inside, Yuuri knows that this meeting will change his life. He's afraid. But, he can't bring himself to turn away. "You were quite captivating."

And then Victor stands up. Naked.

"P-please sit back down!"

"Hmm, okay?"

His heart is beating so hard in his chest and he wonders if Victor could hear it, too. There's no way he can comprehend what's going on right now. Even so, Yuuri can't deny the bubbles of excitement expanding within.

Never in a million years would Yuuri imagine to meet his idol in a place like this. And, in such an intimate setting to boot. With this arrangement, Yuuri can't help but wonder if his decision to retire is avoidable. Bright, coffee-shaded eyes take in the soothing confidence of the other man. Almost as if he can absorb it and use it for himself.

The elder man seems to be waiting for him to say something. Tongue dances on pink lips before pursing to form words. Well.

"First, Nikiforov-san --"

"Please, call me Victor --"

"--Victor-san." A pout springs from the other but Yuuri ignores it. "I know you’ve come to coach me, but,”  there’s a pink petal nestled in the shimmering peppered strands. “to be honest I've been thinking of retiring."

"What? No, Yuuri you have many golden years ahead of you!" There's the look of surprise and sadness on those handsome features. A wave of amazement crashes through Yuuri's form, and then he remembers this is Victor.

“I’m sure of that! Call it a sixth sense, if you will.”

"I, I'm not - I don't know."

"Shh. That's quite alright, my little raccoon." He must be still in a haze because Victor is suddenly in front of him. He fights the urge to cower, to swoon and wins just barely. Ah, his idol is standing right here, gaze so mesmerizing.

He can drown in those eyes.

"But, you love the feeling of the ice."

"Yeah..."

"And that rush when you lose yourself in the routine, you crave that too."

"I, I guess."

A large hand flutters over Yuuri's cheek, fingers unraveling and cupping his chin before tilting it upwards. Thumb pressing softly on his lips. And then their foreheads touch. _Ah..._ He can feel Victor’s breath on his face. Warm and sweet.

"Then, that's good enough for me! I will groom you into a Grand Prix champion.  You will be my most successful pupil yet.” With a grin, the alpha slowly leans a bit backward breaking contact.

“Huh?”

“Relax Yuuri, my eyes are never wrong. It'll be easy with your beta traits."

"Beta? Wait a second Victor-san--"

“--Victor.”

“--Victor." Tries not to notice the look of joy radiating from the other. "I already broke contact with my former coach, I need to start planning for my future --”

“Well isn’t that splendid? I don’t have to ask your coach for your hand. Even the heavens are giving us their blessing.”

“But…”

“Yuuri.” Their fingers are intertwined now. The younger man holds back a blush.

“Tell me you don’t want this?” So smooth. It isn’t fair because Victor’s words are like a trap. Once listened to, you can’t escape. Like a moth drawn to a flame. On the other hand, Yuuri can't deny this is a great opportunity. The retired alpha figure skater had left the rink hardly a year ago, and is already getting boatloads of coaching requests. Even the reigning champion of the Junior Division, Yuri Plitsetsky, covets Victor's guidance.

And here, Victor has crossed oceans to be with  _him._

 _Victor chose me._ That thought by itself is enough to get his blood pumping. Yuuri suddenly squeezes the larger hand in his own. Blue eyes widen. Electricity.

“I do.”

“Then it’s settled!” A big silly grin. Yuuri sees angels and sunshine and gold.

“From now on, please take care of me. Ah! Let's go sightseeing tomorrow! I have always wanted to see ninjas." 

With that, the posterchild of Alpha charm walks out of the bath with just a short towel covering his...assets. As soon as the door shuts behind him, Yuuri falls, back of his jacket sliding down against the flap of wood. The tips of his ears are in full bloom and he clutches his chest as if trying to stop the storm within his heart.

 _I did it._ His breathing is coming out hard, erratic. Brings his arms around his body and squeezes.

_I'm really doing this._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> First off, thank you so much for the kudos and bookmarks. 251 kudos and 52 bookmarks at only the first chapter. Gosh darn!
> 
> Second chapter is so late, but here it is. In time for Christmas, too (I'm quite proud of this!)
> 
> Please leave a kudo or a comment if you enjoyed this. They are my food and I cannot write without being fed ;_;
> 
> A lot of why Victor doesn't coach omegas will come up next chapter and the chapter after that. This chapter is basically the calm before the storm. I had such a hard time condensing the events of episodes 2 to 3 into this monster of a chapter, and I feel like I didn't do it much justice. But chapter three will definitely be pulling at the heartstrings more tightly (I'm sooorrry Yuuri baby ;_; but the show must go on...) 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I don't know why but I just posted and my fic is already on the second page... Could it be 12 people posted exactly seconds after me or is this weird?? If anyone knows please let me know ^^ Thanks !

There's something warm fluttering on his cheeks, like the frail wings of a butterfly. But, it's not unpleasant; Yuuri doesn't move to relieve the soft pressure. Amber eyes, eyes doused in wine, peer back at a tangerine sky.

He's not lucid, but he's not entirely muddled, either. The weight and excitement of what transpired last night is still sending all sorts of nervous tingles down his spine. Yuuri had said yes to _Victor_. They are now student and mentor, respectively. The skin around his neck and face prickles with warmth, and he buries himself deeper into the covers with a yelp. Twirling into a makeshift cocoon.

_Haah.._

Though he is quite a bit concerned over the end of their conversation... Yuuri had somehow scurried into his room last night without anyone noticing. Passing out on the soft blankets.  He doesn't want to admit it, but there are a few things that need to be cleared up. Mainly, the fact that Yuuri isn't a beta. A wave of panic crashes through his form, pushing him closer and closer to complete soberness.

What if Victor finds out? What if, and this has been weighing on his mind heavily like an anvil, what if he’s hated for lying about his secondary gender? Well, it’s not exactly _lying_ more than it is subverting the truth. Still…

Why does Victor want nothing to do with omegas on the ice?

_"Yuuri..."_

He clamps his eyes shut even tighter, palms unconsciously brought up and pressed close to his ears. The call of his name is muffled enough to be thought part of a dream sequence --

"Yuuri! Rise and shine." Squeak of metallic joints. His mattress dips at a corner and Yuuri springs up awake, brown eyes tearing at the sudden sting of sunlight through half drawn blinds. As his vision clears, Yuuri realizes he is face to face with a smiling Victor. Palms, outstretched behind him and supporting the weight of his body, scrunch up, fingers curling into themselves. Yuuri is unnerved; a scent of fear and confusion is unintentionally let off from the omega. Luckily, he’s taken to smothering his skin with scent inhibitors before bed for years out of habit. It still brings an inquisitive blink to clear blue eyes, though.

"V-victor. What are you doing here?"

"I cannot believe you forgot our promise." A pout that could bring puppies to shame. "You are supposed to accompany me to your favorite places so that we can strengthen our bond as student and coach." Victor shifts closer, the wide collar of his robe slipping over a shoulder to reveal a perky...nipple? A dangerous heat crawls over Yuuri's face. He can feel his heart somersault in his chest, can hear the quickened rhythm in the small space of his room. Question is, can Victor too?

“Just, uh. Let me get ready.”

“Alri~ight!”

Except, everything doesn’t seem 'alri~ight.' Reason being his small bedroom continues to feel suspiciously cramped. Turns around.

“V-victor why are you still -- what are you _pulling?”_

“Hmm what's this? You said you were getting ready so I’m helping you change.”

“That’s my briefs!”

“So you don’t change your underwear in the morning?”

“T-that’s not the point!” Oh for christ’s sake. If anyone were to walk into the room right now, they’d chance upon a very _interesting_ sight. Victor’s fingertips are cool over what strips of skin are accidentally brushed upon and Yuuri tries his best not to let his face ripen like a tomato. “Please wait outside.”

“Yuuri you’ll get sick standing naked like that.” The click of a tongue. He’s so near that the omega can feel like vibrations of his voice. “Then I’ll have to wait even longer to coach you.”

“Please!” Shuts the door in his new coach’s face.

Alone in the bathroom, the young man takes a few deep breaths to steady himself. Studies his reflection in the mirror. The tired, half-asleep fellow stares back. Ugh. There are literal dark circles rimming his eyes. Pale hands grip the handles of the faucet, twisting them until a cool stream rushes out. Splashes it on his face with a smack. There. At least there’s a bit of life to his cheeks now.

Underneath the sink basin sits a cabinet. Tucked between cleaning agents and the occasional package of toothpaste, lays a canister of scent block. There’s a sticky, prickly feeling on his skin; he doesn’t like it but holds his breath anyway. Sprays it generously over his arms and chest. That intimate, private spot between his ears and around the thin of his neck. Yuuri almost laughs at how much he’s applied, more than usual, lathering the pressurized gas liquid like soap in the shower. It definitely can’t be healthy in the long run.

But, what other option is there?

There's no way he can let himself walk out smelling like omega. Yuuri is never one to dwell too harshly on his secondary gender, preferring to channel his focus elsewhere, but he's not one to flaunt it either. Rather than embrace the perks (and downsides), he's prime to blending in like a wallflower. Call it what you will.

Yuuri adjusts his glasses, pushing the bridge up with a finger.

After brushing his teeth and that rat nest of his hair, he brings a hand on the bathroom doorknob and twists.

To his surprise, his bedroom is empty. The lingering scent of Victor is faint and Yuuri is not sure how to take the vague sense of disappointment in the pit of his stomach. Brushes it off as hunger. Everything passes in a dreamlike haze, and the omega is not sure when he got to the eating area.

“Yuuri.”

“Huh - wah!”

The alpha lightly rubs a finger and picks up a grain of rice from the corner the younger man’s mouth. All smiles and cheer while Yuuri flushes from the roots of his hair to tips his toes.

Try as he might, Yuuri just can’t get used to this touchy-feelyness. Victor, he notices, is pretty clingy. Whether it’s a light brush of elbows as he walks by, a warm hand placed carefully on Yuuri’s shoulders as he leans in for conversation, or just...picking off food from his face! And did he just _eat it?_ All this within the first 24 hours of him getting here.

_Western countries must be pretty open._

After the quick breakfast of sunny-side eggs, a helping of warm steamed rice, and miso soup, Yuuri is dragged out of his home by the stunning man. Chocolate eyes narrow in focus. Wow. He’s glowing; the waves in those two oceans cascade over one another. They twinkle like diamonds.

“What’s that over there?”

The younger man is jolted from his reverie. His eyes pick up the outstretched hand of the other, index finger pointed at a large structure in the distance.

“Oh, that’s Hasetsu Castle. They say it used to be a ninja hideout back in the days.”

“Wow ninja!”

Yuuri stands off to the side, a bit awkwardly, watching as Victor snaps selfies of himself.

“Yuuri, get in here.”

“I rather not.” There is no way he’s going to -- a quiver of a protruding lip. “Ah, alright just for a bit…”

There’s the _plip_ of camera shutters, an arm thrown over his shoulders, and a picture of Victor and half the omega’s face is uploaded.

“Hm. That’s a nice smile.”

“If you say so…” Twiddles his thumbs, eyes glued to the sidewalk.

“Do you not think you have a nice smile?”

“Er, that’s not what I meant…”

“Well it certainly is. Nice, that is.”

“V-victor.”

“Your eyes smile with your lips. They sparkle. Did you know they are the color of wine in the light?”

“You’ve been looking at me this closely?” And a hand flies to his mouth. Stupid Yuuri, _stupid._ Why did he say that out loud? No way has _the_ Victor Nikiforov been sparing glances at _him --_

“I have. You draw attention wherever you go, Yuuri.”

“T-that can’t be right.”

“Oh, but it is. You have an aura. A music in the way you move. I’m surprised you have yet to notice it yourself.”

Victor’s leaning in closer, the specks of light flickering in blue pools. He can smell the musk of his skin, that tantalizing spice that sends the hairs on Yuuri’s body standing up, and he’s close now, so close.

“Yuuri…”

The younger man’s head jerks up, glasses hanging haphazardly on the bridge of his nose. Victor’s stare has yet to let up. Boring in deeper and deeper into his soul.

“Yes,” he breathes.

“Did you gain weight again?”

“..!”

“I did say you are not getting on the ice until you’ve lost all that.” While saying the phrase ‘all that,” the pale-haired alpha brings his  hands away from his torso as if cradling a large belly. All the while a handsome (frightening) smile slides over his lips.

“I’ll start running more today.”

“Hm that’s not enough --”

“And weight training and ballet practice with my old ballet-instructor. Please!” Chocolate orbs lock with icy blue. “I want to skate.”

Barely a moment flashes by when a different sort of smile is plastered over Victor’s lips.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

 

* * *

  

A day passes, three days. Pretty soon a week has gone by. Yuuri is jogging his usual route along the bridge and up the hills past a shrine, when he notices a crowd forming at Hasetsu Ice Castle’s entrance. Not that it isn’t a fairly common occurrence at this point. The media chomped down hard on Victor’s harmless little instagram post of the ‘ninja stronghold.’ Now there’s always a gathering of reporters and groupies loitering close by. Even so, the young man ups his pace.

By the time he reaches his home rink the rounds of his cheeks are painted a healthy pink. Yuuri takes in long deep breaths, crisp air running through his nose and leaving plush lips in a plume of steam. Trainers digging into the asphalt. He’s right at the front doors, pressing his palms gently on the spotless glass, when there’s a push and a shove - body hurled forward into the lobby by a kick. And a pretty rough one, at that. Yuuri’s head is still spinning when amber orbs catch the sole of a shoe smushing his head.

“This is all your fault.” Teal eyes obstructed by tufts of blonde. A glare that makes Yuuri squirm. “Apologize.”

“I, uh, s-sorry?”

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were enjoying this." Yuri Plisetsky’s lips peel back to reveal shiny white teeth. Trying to look intimidating, but all Yuuri could think of was small. Child. Angry, wet kitten. He shakes back those thoughts when a whiff of something spicey teases his nostrils. Something strong. Sparks curiosity.

From the looks of it, the little guy’s presented as an alpha just recently.

“Um, if you’re looking for Victor he’s probably inside warming up. The rink’s --”

“No shit. I know my way.” The Russian youth takes a few paces towards a door, yanks it open. It’s a broom closet.

.

.

.

“Take me there, goddamit!”

 

* * *

 

The rink is quiet, save for the kiss of blades on ice. It’s a lot more frigid in here, a good thirty degrees colder than the lobby, but Yuuri doesn’t dislike it. Finds it calming, even. He and the younger figure skater have barely stepped into the wide space when cocoa orbs are drawn to the sole figure on the ice.

He has always been painfully aware of Victor. As soon as Yuuri walks into a room, his gaze would instinctively run through the crowd, picking through swarms of faces for that rush of glistening silver, those mischievous yet composed blue eyes. Eyes that, at times, twinkle with childlike wonder.

“That’s for the short program Victor was practicing for the next season.”

“What?”

The alpha in question swerves through the ice, elegant and refined as ever. Too engrossed in his own world to even notice the two spectators. His presence, while commanding attention and respect, seems to have a calming effect on the young alpha next to Yuuri. Even his voice is several times softer. Gentler.

“Victor was already putting together routines for the next season. But I know for a fact he was torn.”

If he concentrates, Yuuri can just make out the dip on slender peppered brows. The tight press of pink lips. Doesn’t realize when a thumb is brought to his own lips. Nips at the nail.

“Surprising the audience has always been his top priority, but now, no matter what he does, how he does it, no one’s surprised anymore. Victor knows that better than anyone.  

“If you don’t have any inspiration left, you’re as good as dead.” Chocolate orbs zero in on two palms squeezing the edge of the dividers. There’s a slight pause, as if Yuri P. is collecting his thoughts, but the young boy continues:“If he’s going to take the next season off, I wonder if he’ll let me use his program. I know I can surprise people more. I need Victor’s help if I’m going to make my senior debut and win the Grand Prix final.”

“Huh? Win?” But it seems like the russian skater is done with his external monologue. Yuuri watches, with great intensity, as the sharer of his name sucks in a deep breath, lungs expanding like balloons, before letting out a shout.

“LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE DOING GREAT, VICTOR!”

“Yuri you’re here. I’m surprised Yakov let you come.”

“Don’t ‘Yuri you’re here’ me! What’s with you sneaking off to this piggy’s homebase?”

 _P-piggy?_ (Twitch of a dark brow.)

“You promised to choreograph my senior debut. I won the junior grand prix _and_ I’m an alpha now!”

“Hmm. Is that so? Well,” blue eyes land on Yuuri. The omega returns the stare for a second, before averting his gaze. Whether it is intentional or not, he’s not sure.

“What should I do? I’ve told Yuuri I’d coach him. There seems to be a problem.”

“Ya think?!”

“Tell you what. I’ll choreograph two programs using the same track. You two will skate these routines and whoever I deem most charming will be my pupil!”

“We’ll be skating to the same music?” This time it is Yuuri’s turn to be flabbergasted.

“Not exactly the same.” A hand is brought out, extended in a ‘like so’ kind of manner. “No, there will be two tracks similar in melody. Similar, but different in their...appeal. One will embody Agape. The other, Eros.”

“A-aga, agey--” furrowing of platinum blonde brows.

“Agape. That’s an unconditional, all-encompassing sort of love. It’s pure. Something I’m sure even you can pull off.” With a press of a button, the rink’s speakers rumble with a tranquil tune, fitted with soft notes and a foreign female tongue - and is that an _organ_? - in the background. It has a slow rhythm. Yuuri barely catches himself before he starts humming along. Like the unspoken reassuring pledge of a lullaby, Yuuri feels his whole form relax. Loosen up. Watches as the alpha twirls and dances like a devout maiden. He can do this. Yuuri feels a wave of determination crash into the shore that is his heart. If it’s this track --

“And here is Eros, sexual love.” He can tell that the melody is similar, although it’s obvious the track is more upbeat. Hot. Yuuri can practically sense the heat radiating from Victor’s complicated step sequence, the push and pull of sensuality from every twirl, every suggestive sway of the hips that promised everything but coyly pulls back with a wink. In the tightness of his muscle shirt are the outlines of rock hard abs. A smoky, _come hither_ look to azure eyes.

_It’s enough to make a man like me pregnant!_

A hand flies to his mouth, covering the lips that don’t dare speak. Oh, but he’s definitely thought it…

“That’s a gross smile, wipe it off your face.”

He almost shoots up in shock. Presses his hand harder on his mouth.

“Tch.”

“And that’s the gist of it!” Victor pulls to a stop in front of the two boys, blades of his skates halting. “Have you decided?”

“Eros! I want that. That’s so me.”

_I wouldn’t mind, if it were Agape --_

“That’s splendid hmm. Yuri.” Blue orbs lock with teal. “You will be doing Agape.”

“ _WHAT?”_

 _“_ T-That means --”

“Correct. Eros, sexual, fierce eros. Yuuri. That will be you, my dear.”

Pupils dilate, a rush of prickly warmth spreading like a rash though his cheeks and the soft of his neck.

“...Eh?”

 

* * *

 

 

"I can't believe Victor assigned me with this crap! He must really want to mess with me!"

Yuri P. kicks an innocent empty can and it goes flying.

"What 'pure innocent feeling?' What does that even _mean?_ I'm here to win not play girly maiden. And you." The glare is frigid, and Yuuri tries not to flinch. The younger boy eventually shrugs.

"Sorry, but if I'm having this much trouble with Agape I don't see how you're gonna make it with Eros. Mr.  _Virgin."_

"W-what?"

"Even if you imagine a hundred eggs boiling or whatever. The one who'll have Victor as his coach is going to be _me."_

"You don't know that."

" _Excuse me?"_

"You'll just have to wait and see, Yuri." An uncharacteristically confident smile flashes over Yuuri's face. "I'll be looking forward to this competition."

With one last staring match and a huff, the small grumpy Russian boy saunters off. As Yuri P.'s form shrinks into the distance, the scaffold holding up Yuuri's confidence sways and bends, falling into itself as the last strings unravel.  

_Just why did I say that?_

It's true what the other youth had said about his sensuality. Or, lack thereof. Projecting his desire to consume his favorite katsudon dish as Eros hardly seems conventional, if at all possible. Oh dear. What has Yuuri gotten himself into.

_I won't lose._

Not when Victor's tutelage was on the table. Yuuri's palms roll into fists by his side, veins floating. He has finally been able to pull himself out of the slump threatening to destroy everything he's worked for over these years. No way he's not going to fight tooth and nail for this.  

The days following up until the exhibition match pass with increasing pressure. Just the thought of losing in tomorrow's match is enough to keep Yuuri up all night. What is Eros? Though Yuuri had skated the routine while eating katsudon in mind, is that really enough? Victor didn't seem to mind so much, but even _he_ can tell something is missing. Desire...

_What do I desire?_

He can't say it's the touch of Victor's skin. He definitely can't say it's his all. 

"Ugh..."

Slides a finger over his phone's screen. It's 2 am already. Buries his face in the blankets.

_I want to win and keep winning so that Victor and I can keep eating katsudon together._

The pale glow of the moon sneaks through the unwound blinds. It casts long, dark shadows over the walls, but the light slowly creeps towards the foot of his bed. 

 

* * *

 

"We're here at Ice Castle Hasetsu, venue of the Hasetsu exhibition: Hot Springs on Ice. Right off the bat we have skaters Katsuki Yuuri and Yuri Plisetsky." The camera focuses at the reporter, before panning out at the two boys. Yuuri finds it a bit daunting staring into the lens but the other youth just glances back deadpan.

"Both of your new short programs are choreographed by Victor Nikiforov. You'll be presenting them today in competition. Tell us how you feel going into the event!"

"Um," he puts on a smile that's only twitching just a little. Tugs at the collar of his blazer. "It'll be great if you tried the hot springs afterward."

("Hey! We're not asking you to promote tourism. Promote yourself!")

"We don't need two Yuris. I'll crush him." The pressure of his words can be felt by those around him.

"Yes! That's it! Thanks for giving us what we wanted to hear!" The reporter clears his throat, a sudden fire in his eyes. "Last but not least, let's hear from Victor Nikiforov, who switched to coaching not even a year ago!"

The camera swings over to Victor, who's dressed in a (bath)robe with a sash reading Hasetsu Tourism Ambassador.

"Hi! Hasetsu is a great place. Come visit at least once!"

"W-what are you doing, Victor?"

"Stop that! You'll make today's face-off look cheap. You better be ready to evaluate our battle."

"Victor will grant the wish of whoever wins, right?"

"Oh...of course!"

"...He totally forgot, didn't he."

.

.

.

.

Several minutes roll by and the stands are getting fuller and fuller. The lights above have slowly dimmed; only the ones dead center are shining with maximum luminosity. 

"Now, a champion with wins in the Junior Grand Prix Final and Junior World Championship. Hoping for a brilliant senior division debut, with programs choreographed by Victor Nikiforov, Yuri Plisetsky!" 

The spot lights follow a lone figure on the ice. Metallic threading of his costume glistening like the blond hair on his head. Yuri glides through to the center of the rink, blades of his skates skimming over the ice.

As soon as the music plays, the young alpha's stance melts into a delicate pose. Arms swinging softly and outstretched in the air. There's a quiet touch to his presence, and though it's a bit subdued the feeling is not at all muted. A vibrant aura surrounds the young figure skater. With one look you can tell: this is an alpha.

His first jump is a triple axel. Yuri lands it with technical precision and the announcer praises it for its textbook flavor but.

_This isn't enough._

He feels the beads of sweat accumulating at the thin of his back, trapped within the translucent fabric of the costume. His ears catch the soft hums of awe from the audience but he doesn't let himself relax.

It's at the second half of his routine that Yuri P. finally pulls out his quads. Quadruple Salchow followed by a Triple Toe Loop. Then, a Quadruple Toe Loop. Again, they're crisp and clean and on a technical standpoint perhaps not much can be deducted from them. Even so.

_I'm too busy skating to think about agape at all!_

As the music come to a close, Yuri P. is left trying to catch his breath. The cheers of the audience contradicts with the growing unease in his heart. Quickly shoots a glance at the elder alpha leaning on the dividers.

_I messed up didn't I, Victor._

Up at the stands, Yuuri watches the whole performance of his fellow competitor. Yurio's sheer technical prowess comes hard to swallow for the other, and he rolls his hands into two loose balls on his lap.

There's no escaping it; the younger male will rank among the top senior division skaters. Definitely. How can he, a run-of the-mill skater from Japan, compete with that. Win against that?

_If I lose, Victor will be going back to Russia._

His palms are now rolled into fists and his jaw tightens.

_I don't want that!_

"Yuuri, it's about time."

A strangled gasp escapes from soft plush lips. Chocolate orbs flash up. The one by his side is no other than Victor.

"Um," takes in the warm expression of the alpha. He feels his stomach churn, vision blurring but finally summons his strength. "I'm going to be a super tasty pork cutlet bowl, so please. Watch me." Pulls Victor into a tight embrace.

"Promise me!"

At first, Victor is just standing there. Still like a log. But then: "Of course. I love pork cutlet bowls." Returns the embrace. Yuuri rests his chin on his shoulder. Breathing in the spicy yet sweet musk. 

"We're pleased to introduce a skater who represents Japan. He's a late bloomer who's become a rising star: Katsuki Yuuri!"

Yuuri glides over to the center of the rink, hair slicked back and the pitch black costume hugging the curves of his body. Leaving much to the imagination. 

As soon as the wail of the violin travels, Yuuri is swaying and spinning in a complicated step sequence. There. There it is. He feels the gape of the audience. But, there is only one gaze he yearns for.

_For whom am I dancing?_

Gone is the shy, hesitant movement of Katsuki Yuuri. No.

_Only I know._

He is the Seductress now. 

A Spread Eagle into a Triple Axel. Yuuri's program is tough and he knows it. All of his jumps are scheduled at the second half, where most skaters would have trouble landing a few jumps, much less all of them.

His stamina is high so he's able to persist but -

"Oh, he's stepped out of his Quadruple Salchow! But Katsuki's managed to stay in by putting his hand down."

_Don't sweat it. Don't sweat it._

Yuuri continues his frolic, sensuality dripping cold and hard.

_A mistake like this isn't enough to make me lose my charms._

Quadruple Toe Loop followed by a Triple Toe Loop and he nails them. The crowd is going wild. Yuuri is starting to lose himself to the high of skating. Eyes narrowing, almost half lid as he bends his limbs in a combination spin.

_Ahh, this feeling._

He feels the chill of the ice on his skin, head tilting back as the music stills and body twisted into an alluring pose.

_I've almost forgotten._

As he breathes in and out harshly, the cheer of the crowd rumbles through the stands. He hears his name being woven into a chant. Basks in the afterglow of his performance.

"Yuuri!"

Almost instantly his head whips to the direction of the voice.

"That was the tastiest katsudon I have ever seen!" 

There's a flush to the alpha's cheeks, mirroring his own. Yuuri fights the urge to reach out and touch the other's face, chides himself for even thinking that.

"T-thank you."

"But, can I say something?"

They're standing face to face at the kiss and cry now, eyes locked onto one another. Yuuri feels his breath hitch. That look in Victor's eyes. It's as if the only ones who existed were the two of them.

"O-of course."

A deep breath, and: "What was with your Triple Axel out of the Spread Eagle? That was theworstattemptsofar. IknowyouhadYurioteachyoutheQuadSalchowinsecretbutwhatwas _that?"_

 _"_ Ahh..." And he falls over.

They don't know it yet, but Yurio had already left the rink towing his luggage. Yuuri's performance was enough of an indicator of who won this battle.

"Congratulations for winning the Hot Springs on Ice Event! Is there anything you'd like to say?"

Standing at the podium with Victor, Yuuri has only one thing in mind. He hesitates on how to word it though, tongue dancing on his lips when Victor gives his arm a reassuring squeeze. 

"I'm going to try to win the next Grand Prix Final with Victor." Shifts his gaze over at the man standing next to him, and body loosens at the warm smile clinging on Victor's face. "Thank you for your continued support!"

_With Victor by my side, I can definitely do this._

The crowd erupts into cheer once more, seemingly pleased with the current situation. He can feel the heat of his new coach's palm sinking through the fabric of his costume and into his skin.

 _I'll definitely come in and go out with a_ bam.

 

 

 


End file.
